


Help For The Mage

by SnubbingApollo



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Adoribull - Freeform, Canon-Typical Violence, Cole trying to help, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Panic Attacks, safeword used in non-sexual situation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-07
Updated: 2015-05-07
Packaged: 2018-03-29 12:06:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3895696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SnubbingApollo/pseuds/SnubbingApollo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“<i>Hands, hard and unforgiving, holding him down. A voice, once loved, but not now, not anymore, harsh in his ears.</i> ‘I’m trying to help you. You’ll thank me when this is over.’” Cole’s voice breaks the post battle silence and, frozen like he is, there’s nothing Dorian can do to stop it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Help For The Mage

Dorian lets out a disgruntled yelp as he brings his staff up to block the knife of the bandit who _should not be this close to him thank you very much_.

“Help for the mage _please_ ,” he calls testily to the group ostensibly made up of his allies.

He brings his staff around to bash the cutthroat in the head but the man is more agile than he’s expecting and ducks under the swing. Dorian’s arm swings wide on the follow through and, too late, he realizes he’s left himself open. This is why he’s not a melee fighter. He throws up his free arm to at least put something between the blade and his throat and is bracing himself for what is sure to be an ungodly amount of pain when the Bull comes crashing in from the left. He rids the man of his head with one strong swing of his ax and blood sprays in the aftermath.

It coats Dorian’s raised arm and spatters across his face and neck in warm wet droplets. Dorian freezes. His breath catches in his chest and his heartbeat pounds in his ears.

“Dorian, you alright?” The Bull asks. He looks the mage over more carefully when he doesn’t respond, checking for wounds.

“ _Hands, hard and unforgiving, holding him down. A voice, once loved, but not now, not anymore, harsh in his ears._ ‘I’m trying to help you. You’ll thank me when this is over.’” Cole’s voice breaks the post battle silence and, frozen like he is, there’s nothing Dorian can do to stop it. “ _Blood so much blood, warm and sticky on his skin, taste of it thick in the back of his throat, smell cloying. Stop, someone make him stop, NO_!”

“Stop!” Dorian chokes out unsure if he’s speaking to Cole or begging the memory of his father. His chest feels tight and he can’t breathe. He can taste the blood in his mouth again, smell it in the air, so much of it, all over him. 

His staff falls from nerveless fingers and the sound of it hitting the ground makes him jump casting his eyes around for a threat. His hands are shaking and he’s so cold. He’s always cold in the South but this is deeper, like the snow and ice has entered his blood, and taken up residence in his chest and stomach.

He feels like he’ll never be warm again.

A sound escapes his throat, desperate and harried and completely beyond his control.

“Shit, Dorian, look at me,” The Bull’s voice reaches him as though from a distance, and when he obeys he does it automatically, without thought. He sees the qunari standing in front of him, ax dropped to the ground and hands held up entreatingly. “It’s alright. You’re safe.”

Safe, that word has no meaning. He’s not safe. He has to run, to hide, get away. Dorian starts to back up haltingly. He’s not sure which way to go. How can you run away when there’s nothing to run away _from_?

“Dorian, listen to me,” The Iron Bull tries again. “You’re not there. You’re here, in this forest, with me. I’m not gonna let anything hurt you, Kadan.”

Dorian blinks. He knows that word. Kadan. There’s something he’s supposed to say. When it goes wrong. When something’s not right and he’s afraid.

“Katoh,” Dorian gasps out. His voice is shaky and weak and it sounds like a whimper.

“Fuck,” Bull says harshly and abandons his unthreatening stance coming forward and taking Dorian into his arms gently. He’s careful not to smother the man, leaving his embrace loose in case Dorian needs to extricate himself. His worry turns out to be in vain.

Dorian buries his face in the Bull’s shoulder clutching the other man to him with a desperation he didn’t know he had in him.

“Just try to breathe for me, Kadan. It’ll be alright.”

Dorian has no idea how long they stay like that, the Bull whispering to him softly and Dorian clinging to him. Eventually his breathing starts to even out and his shaking stops. The bitter icy cold drains from him as well, but it leaves a hollow, leaden feel in its wake.

Dorian chokes on a sob under its weight and tears well in his eyes and spill over. He’s distantly horrified at himself but he can’t make this seem real. It’s almost as if it’s happening to someone else and Dorian is merely observing from inside his skin.

“I’m sorry,” he chokes out. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” He sniffs indelicately and starts to pull himself back.

“You’ve got nothing to be sorry for and there’s nothing wrong with you.” The Bull takes Dorian’s face in his hands and wipes away blood and tears and smeared kohl with his thumbs. “Not a damn thing, Dorian.”

Dorian attempts a smile and hopes it doesn’t look as weak as it feels. Judging by the Bull’s face it’s not much of a success. The qunari pulls out his water skin and a handkerchief from his pack.

“Come on, Kadan. Let’s get this off you.”

“I hope that’s clean,” Dorian mutters as the Bull wets the cloth and runs it over his skin, but his heart isn’t in the protest. He still feels off kilter and raw. “Where are Evelyn and Cole?”

“Evie took Cole further up the road when he started making it worse. Don’t worry about that we’ll catch up when you’re ready.”

Dorian nods. He’s exhausted and he’s not ready to deal with Cole’s apologies and Evie’s concerned looks just yet. He leans into the Iron Bull and focuses on the safe feeling of the qunari’s arms around him, and the soothing motions of the cloth as it washes the blood away.

“Thank you,” he whispers. The Bull kisses his cheek gently.

“Always, Kadan.”


End file.
